


Want

by lary



Series: The Truth [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Consensual Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Humor, M/M, Rimming, Slash, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 11:19:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lary/pseuds/lary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the unfortunate incident with Potter and Veritaserum, the only reason Draco is not freaking out is because such behaviour would be unbecoming of a Malfoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Want

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own them.

 

 

It had seemed like such a simple thing.

 

Kiss Potter. One more taste of those red-swollen lips, still tasting of his cum. Plus an unprecedented opportunity to shock Weasel and the mudblood. What was not to like?

 

Draco let the door bang shut and leaned his forehead against it, grateful that the dormroom was empty. Wherever Greg and Vince had buggered off to after the Quidditch match, they apparently hadn't made it back yet. Draco absently wondered if he should check where they were, since their disappearance was no coincidence, but then decided he had better things to do. Such as banging his head against the door.

 

Yes, clearly his judgement had been right on.

 

The whole blowjob thing Draco could still justify. Who didn't want a blowjob, after all? And perhaps even the fact that he hadn't stopped the kissing when Potter had initiated it. He could claim that his brain was still not functioning properly, so soon after an orgasm, and the other boy had taken advantage.

 

However, the sudden appearance of a Weasley was enough to shock anybody out of their post-coital stupor and, therefore, there was no rational explanation for why it had been Draco who had kissed Potter even after the Gryffindor's friends had shown up.

 

Draco banged his head against the door once more for good measure (with a cushioning charm in between, obviously), before warding it shut and throwing himself on his bed.

 

Everybody knew the self-evident reasons why you should never allow your enemies to dose you with Veritaserum. But Draco had never known that the bigger risk was in the way it prevented you from lying to yourself. Merlin, hearing himself go on and on about Potter's looks and goddamn fucking nobility, without any way to stop the flow of information – that had been almost more mortifying than Potter finding out his thoughts.

 

Of course, on some level Draco had known it all. About Potter and his stupidly green eyes and his damn heroics and his all too fuckable arse. But he'd happily used all his considerable resources to bury that knowledge as deep as humanly possible.

 

Now, though, it had surfaced, and was doing a bloody dance so as to not be ignored. There was no more lying to himself now. That would have been pathetic, and if there was one thing that was worse than wanting Potter, it was pathetically wanting Potter.

 

With that rationalisation, Draco decided to finally allow himself to think about it.

 

The first thing his brain fixated on was, unsurprisingly, the image of Harry's lips stretched around his cock. Draco doubted he'd ever get over how fucking hot that had been. Even the obvious inexperience had done nothing to lessen the impact of having the object of several of his fantasies sucking him off. In technical terms, the blowjob had been nothing special, but Draco had been hard pressed not to shoot his load instantly with the thought of being the one to divest the Chosen One of his virginity. Or at least blowjob-virginity – there was still the other one to get rid of...

 

It took several minutes and some relieving activities before Draco's brain consented to moving on from that specific topic.

 

It didn't, to be fair, move on all that far. When Harry-- no, when _Potter_ had kissed him, it had been almost more intimate than anything that had preceded it. His lips gentle and moving softly, and the taste of Harry – fucking hell, why was thinking about the kissing transforming Potter into Harry in his head?

 

At banging from the door, Draco removed the wards and scowled at Vince and Greg. They ignored him in favour of the ridiculous amounts of muffins they were carrying, which suited Draco just fine. He spelled shut the velvet curtains around his bed and went back to contemplating Potter.

 

Potter, who had surprised him in various ways today. The most significant was, perhaps, how utterly _Slytherin_ Harry's plan had been. Draco scowled at the involuntary shiver, telling his libido that it was _not_ in any way impressive. Besides, Potter had messed it up, which meant that the world hadn't completely tilted from its axis. Except that it had, since the thing that had prevented Potter from finding out about Draco's orders to murder Dumbledore (right, that was going to happen real soon) and to fix the Vanishing Cabinet was, apparently, Potter's fascination with Draco. Just how long had that been going on and why had nobody notified him?

 

That he could lust for Harry's body, sure. That Potter could make him this intellectually turned on? That was something else altogether. Certainly, Draco had underestimated him before. Combined with the qualities he'd had already observed (which after the truth potion hardly needed repeating), Draco was engulfed by a nearly paralysing surge of desire.

 

It was at realising just how badly he _wanted_ Potter that his mind finally moved onto the topics it should have been occupied with to start with. Topics that were way more important than Potter's arse, no matter how impressive.

 

Like the fact that his father was going to kill him.

 

Draco slid his hand along his arm. The throb of the Mark under his fingers, angry and raw just like it always was, that was an all too forceful reminder that he couldn't be distracted by Potter.

 

A hundred rational reasons why he shouldn't want Harry flicked through his brain. Potter wouldn't stand by somebody marked, for one thing. He might want Draco now, but the bloody golden boy would run at the irrefutable evidence of just where his loyalties lay. Another issue entirely were the consequences of such a choice – to him, to his family. They could, no, they _would_ all lose their lives in a heartbeat if the Dark Lord got wind of Draco's treachery.

 

But there was something else his father had taught him: a Malfoy always took what he wanted.

 

It was something he had always lived by, so far, but never using it to go against his father's wishes. Then again, Draco thought, digging his nails into the skin of his forearm, Lucius certainly felt free to disregard Draco's desires when it suited his purposes, even though he'd see the opposite as betrayal of the family.

 

What the hell was he supposed to do?

 

**

 

He knew, the next morning, that he shouldn't leave his room.

 

Fuck Pansy. Fuck Flitwick and turning mugs into glasses or whatever inane they were doing. Fuck even Snape, which was something Draco hardly ever thought, except in a literal sense in the context of a good wank fantasy.

 

The sleepless night had done nothing to clear his head regarding The Potter Situation. And Draco knew well that he didn't make the best choices under pressure. That was why he was a Slytherin and not a sodding Gryffindor. He planned, and he did it well. With all the many ways he defined perfection, Draco was well aware that spontaneous decision making wasn't one of those ways. When faced with an instant choice, his judgement tended to be overrun by baser urges.

 

Besides the tiredness, the subtle self-loathing, and the lingering arousal, his morning started normally enough. Pansy roused him forcefully, ignoring his very reasonable protests. She refused to miss breakfast and the accompanying opportunity to drool over Zabini. That, of course, meant that Draco was dragged to the great hall.

 

To be fair, if it wasn't for his lack of concentration, Draco probably would have been a useful advisor in Pansy's quest for seducing Blaise. But who could blame him for being distracted when Potter was sitting right across the hall looking utterly shaggable?

 

Unlike his Gryffindor sidekicks, who were casting continuous glances into Draco's direction, Potter ignored him all through the breakfast. Apparently all it took was some major-league embarrassment via exhibitionism and a blowjob for the speccy git to get over his obsession.

 

Not that he wanted Potter following him, per se. Just that Draco had gotten used to him. It was like having a crup or something. Besides, stopping his surveillance was completely immoral of Potter. What about all of Draco's evil plans?

 

This wouldn't do. He'd had to put up with the Saviour's unwanted presence throughout the school year – he wasn't about to forgo it just as things were getting interesting.

 

Potter continued to ignore Draco all through the day and the next, in the corridors and in the potions class. The only thing that gave it up was the telling flush he got whenever he could feel Draco's gaze on him. The light redness spread up from his collar and Draco wanted to lick it.

 

He was pretty sure he'd lost his mind.

 

That was why he dragged Pansy towards the lake on their way to Herbology. Though talking to Pansy, of all people, was possibly further evidence of insanity.

 

“Draco, what is going on with you? You're messing up my robes.”

 

“Focus, Pansy.” When she kept brushing the dark fabric, Draco rolled his eyes and corrected it with a quick flick of his wand.

 

“Right. What's so important?” she asked. When Draco paced, his lips pressed into a thin line, she transformed a leaf into a blanket and set it onto a rock before sitting down. Based on her experience of her best friend's moods, this kind of freakout could take a while.

 

“Apparently I want Potter,” Draco finally blurted out.

 

“And?”

 

“What do you mean, and?”

 

“Well, I thought you had something new to talk about.” Pansy inspected her nails. The shade of the red was slightly darker than her lipstick.

 

“You knew?”

 

“Of course, darling.”

 

“And why didn't you tell me?” he demanded, ignoring the way Pansy held out her hand.

 

“Are you kidding? You would have hexed the messenger.” She stared at him until he conceded and spelled her nails into the accurate shade. She always preferred Draco's nailpolish spells to her own, and normally Draco was rather pleased by that. Right now, though, he wished that she could keep her eye on the prize. Pansy sighed. “Fine. I'm sorry I didn't notify you that you had the hots for Potter. It's just that I thought it was pretty obvious. Now, anything else?”

 

“Unfortunately, yes,” Draco admitted. “We sort of ended up having sex.”

 

Pansy froze. “You shagged The Boy Who Lived? Are you completely insane?”

 

“No, I didn't! He just sucked me off,” Draco clarified hastily.

 

“As if that's any better!”

 

Draco shrugged uncomfortably. It wasn't really.

 

Pansy looked at him shrewdly. “You're thinking about doing it again.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“And you thought this would be a good idea?”

 

“No?”

 

“But you thought I'd provide you a rationalisation why you should do it anyway?”

 

“Er... yes?” Pansy's withering look made him grimace.

 

“Every single wizard on both sides of the war will be after your hide. For Salazar's sake, Draco! Stop thinking with your prick.”

 

“That's the problem, though,” Draco said miserably. “I'm not.”

 

“You're saying... what? That you actually like him?” Now, finally, Pansy looked properly surprised. “You? Seriously?”

 

“I wouldn't be saying that, except that when he dosed me with Veritaserum, I kept singing his praises like a little bird.”

 

“Wow,” Pansy said. She was quiet for a little while, then asked, “What's there in Potter to wax poetic about for three hours?”

 

Draco glared. “Asks the woman who spent last Thursday telling me about Blaise's oh-so-dark eyes.”

 

“Oh, and I suppose Potter's eyes deserve it more.”

 

“Have you actually seen him?” Draco demanded. “Besides, I've been listening to you go on about Blaise's dreamy eyes for months.”

 

“Well, I don't see why Potter's dreamy eyes should take precedence over Blaise's.”

 

“Because--” Draco stopped suddenly in horror. “Please tell me we are not actually having the conversation we are having right now.”

 

Pansy started laughing. That utter bitch.

 

“I'm not going to do anything,” Draco stated.

 

Pansy smirked. “And your track record with self-control around Potter should reassure me?”

 

“Fuck off. I'm not doing anything more with him,” Draco said determinedly.

 

**

 

His decision lasted all of three hours until the dinner in the Great Hall, during which Potter never once looked in his direction. When Potter took off alone, Draco was out of his chair and after him in a flash.

 

He caught up with the Gryffindor easily. Harry gave a satisfying yelp when he was pulled into an alcove. Draco had him by both arms, pinning him with his back against the stone wall.

 

“So, Potter, you are really now going to stop stalking me, just when things were getting interesting?”

 

“Oh no, that wasn't the plan at all.” The green eyes were alight with mischief, which wasn't really as sexy as Draco's prick seemed to think. Potter stared at Draco with intensity. “Also, you should really call me Harry again.”

 

“No, Potter, I shouldn't.”

 

“I was only ignoring you because I knew then you'd have to have me.”

 

Draco pressed Potter harder into the wall, gratified by his groan. He was surprised when, suddenly, Harry's muscles relaxed all at once.

 

“You like that, don't you?” Draco said, leaning more of his weight against the other boy. He got a low moan as response, and it made him shiver. “Tell me. Tell me you want it.”

 

“Yeah...”

 

“You want me to hold you like this?” Potter's body was warm and willing and so enticingly male, it made Draco feel exhilarated. He was pretty sure he had lost track of what he was doing, but it didn't matter, not with Potter literally in his hands. “You want me to take you and use you?”

 

“Ohh, God...”

 

The way Potter arched his neck-- Draco didn't even try to stop himself, he tasted along it, tracing his throat with his lips and teeth. Holding onto Harry's biceps, Draco sucked on the skin in a way that seemed to be making the other boy crazy. The red marks patterned on Harry's skin made a growl build up in his throat. But still it wasn't enough, he wanted to... he stared at the column of Harry's throat, at the bob of his Adam's apple when he swallowed and oh, how it made him _want_.

 

Draco let go of his arms and stepped back so that a few inches separated their bodies. “Strip for me.” It took a satisfyingly long moment for the dazed look on Potter's face start diminishing.

 

“Uh, what?”

 

“I want you naked,” said Draco. He didn't need any potion telling him that, now. “I want you to take off your clothes for me, one at a time so that I get to watch.”

 

“Anybody could come here,” Potter protested. He had a point, since they weren't all that far from the more used corridors. Draco supposed that was something he should be more concerned about, but with Harry right there, looking dishevelled and ready to do whatever Draco wanted, he just couldn't bring himself to care all that much. Idly, he aimed a warding spell at the entrance of the alcove, enough to warn them about somebody crossing it and to give the person a gentle suggestion of something else they badly needed to be doing.

 

“Now, then,” Draco said expectantly, backing down to lean against the wall on the other side. He wanted to see Harry naked.

 

Potter's cheeks were flaming. His embarrassment was clear, but he didn't argue. Instead he dropped his robes onto the floor and started to pull off his sweater. Draco interrupted him quickly.

 

“Slower. And I want you to look at me while you do it.”

 

Harry bit his bottom lip. His eyes were fixed on Draco, the emerald glittering dark and alive. Desire was written plain on his face. He moved his hands slowly, now, and pulled the sweater upwards. His t-shirt rode up with it, a little, and Draco stared at the patch of skin revealed, dark hair leading down the lean stomach. Harry's fingers went to open the button of his jeans next, but he left them hanging off his hips. Draco could see the blue boxers that were already damp with precome and did nothing to hide the erection underneath. He swallowed when Potter started removing his shirt, exposing his chest and hard, brown nipples.

 

Harry ran his hands downwards along his skin. He looked flushed, his lips parted, breathing quickly. Draco was insanely turned on by how Harry was making himself vulnerable for him, baring himself while Draco remained fully clothed, and doing it despite his clear self-consciousness.

 

He'd never had a similar urge to dominate, not like this. It had always come from a different place, and never been this satisfying. But with Potter, Draco knew that the other boy chose to do it. He wasn't out of his league with Draco, not really, and he wasn't just trying to please him. He clearly wanted this as much as Draco felt himself wanting this.

 

“Gods, yes, just like that,” Draco said when Harry kicked off his shoes and lowered down the jeans. His legs were muscled, slightly more so than his torso, and Draco could imagine how they'd feel wrapped around his waist.

 

And then finally Harry was taking off the boxers, gasping sharply as the fabric grazed over his cock. Draco couldn't help to think that it was perfect, though right now he was hard pressed to remember what he might have wanted before. What he cared was that Harry was right there, disrobed and hard for him.

 

“Turn around and lean forwards, your elbows against the wall.” Draco felt like his throat wanted to close up as the other boy obeyed. Harry was a vision, leaning forwards with his forearms pressed into the surface, his face covered by the dark hair. Submissive, vulnerable, just waiting for Draco to do whatever he wanted to him. Draco stared at the lean muscles on his back and arms. Mostly, though, his gaze was fixed on Harry's arse.

 

“Spread you legs open. More.” Harry moved, and Draco could see his balls hanging heavy between his legs. He wanted to have Harry like this, to own him and bloody well keep him like this. The urge was overwhelming.

 

“You love it when I'm telling you what to do, don't you? You're such a dirty slut for me, aren't you Potter?” The way Harry _moaned_ at that made Draco nearly tremble with want. He pressed his nails into his palms. “Answer me.” It was embarrassing, how rough and husky his voice suddenly came out.

 

“Yes,” Potter practically growled. “God, Draco, you have no idea how much I want you.”

 

Draco's breath caught, and at this moment he was pretty sure he did know exactly what Harry was talking about.

 

He was almost hesitant to touch, to disrupt the perfection that was Harry's body naked in front of him, but he wanted to feel, to taste, to hear more than Harry's laboured breathing. And he still wanted to see more. That's where he started, kneeling behind the other boy and spreading his arsecheeks open, exposing the furrowed hole. His cock throbbed at the strangled noise Harry made.

 

“Draco...”

 

“No talking.” He wasn't sure he wouldn't come in his pants if he heard his name in _that voice_ again. “You're free to make any other noise you feel like,” Draco added.

 

He thanked his lucky stars that he had when he licked wetly over the pucker and Harry moaned in a way that shot straight to his prick. Merlin, he'd never been this hard. He lapped over Harry's anus again, in long, slow strokes up the crease of his arse, revelling in the unfamiliar but decidedly masculine taste. He pulled back teasingly when Harry tried to press into it, keeping it light until Harry _whined_ – such a needy sound and so damn hot that Draco's fingers pressed into the skin of Harry's arse as he finally plunged his tongue inside Harry's body, reaching deeper with every guttural sound that Harry released, almost constant flow now. He fucked Harry with his tongue until it was no longer enough.

 

Draco didn't think he'd ever undressed as quickly as he did now. His prick was straining, painfully hard, and he pressed it against Harry's backside. The other boy pushed back instinctively, near mindlessly, and Draco had half a mind to just shove it in and shag his brains out. But he was pretty sure this was Harry's first time, and he didn't think it should be like that. And it wasn't as if he was going to let this be their last time – no fucking way – so he'd have time for rough and fast.

 

Not that this was going to last long now, not with all the build up. But he wanted to see Harry's face as he entered his body, when he was inside Harry for the first time.

 

He summoned his wand for a quick cushioning charm and then pulled Harry to his chest. The other boy moved as if in a haze, and followed easily when Draco guided him to lie on his back on the floor, looking at Draco with half-lidded eyes, breathing hard.

 

“You may talk again, if you wish to.”

 

“I'm not sure I'm still able to,” Harry said, mostly coherently. “You're... you're unbelievable.”

 

Draco wanted to make a glib remark, but his chest was feeling oddly tight, so he didn't trust himself. Instead, he lowered himself onto Harry and took his lips in a kiss that had a desperate edge to it. They both gasped as their pricks bumped against each other. Draco moved quickly, positioning himself against Harry's entrance and rubbing against it, slick with saliva and precum.

 

“Harry, is it... I mean, can I...”

 

Somehow the prospect was suddenly just so much. Even after what they'd just done, all of that had just sort of happened. Draco had had Harry there, his brain had short-circuited, and he'd gone on instinct, reacting to his libido's commands. But this - buggering the bloody Boy Who Lived. It was so deliberate. It was a choice, an irrevocable step – for him to do it, for Harry to let him.

 

But how he wanted to.

 

“Harry...”

 

“Draco, I want you to. I trust you to.”

 

Why Harry would trust him so, Draco didn't know, and only now he realised he'd gotten naked without thinking about the Mark. He didn't know if Harry'd even noticed it and he felt his insides freezing, but at the same time... He had Harry under him now, Harry who said he trusted him, even though he shouldn't, who said it even though he already suspected Draco of being a Death Eater. And when it came down to it, Draco didn't at this point much want to find out whether Harry was simply too horny to remember or if he really didn't care. So he felt around for his wand and conjured lube to make his cock even slicker.

 

There was only a little resistance when Draco started pushing in. Harry threw his head back, shutting his eyes and breathing rapidly. Draco stilled and took a hold of Harry's prick. It throbbed hotly in his hand, and Harry groaned.

 

“You alright?”

 

“Yes,” Harry said breathlessly. “God, that feels intense.” His thighs trembled against Draco's sides, and Draco thrust his hips again, shallowly, moving his hand on Harry's shaft and rubbing the head. When Draco pressed his fingernail against the slit, Harry made the most amazing noise and jolted his hips upwards, practically impaling himself on Draco's dick. Draco leaned down and clutched Harry's shoulders, trying hard as hell think about anything else besides the incredible heat around him.

 

“Draco, you can move, I'm okay.”

 

Draco couldn't help it, he released a strangled laughter. “That wasn't really what I was worried about,” he assured. Harry's pupils were lust-blown and green. It was an amazing look on him, Draco decided, before pulling out almost all the way and sliding back in. He set a moderate pace for both of their sakes, but that only lasted for a few minutes.

 

“Ahh, fuck me, really fuck me, I want you to,” Harry gasped, and that was it, Draco pounded into him, fast and hard and so, so good. He held onto Harry's shoulders, biting on his neck, claiming him for himself.

 

“Come for me, Harry,” he growled when he rocked into Harry over and over, so close to the edge. “Fucking come for me, you dirty little slut. I want your arse to milk my cum right out of my cock and inside you.”

 

“Oh, ohh, God, Draco,” Harry moaned. His cock pulsed between them and his muscles contracted so perfectly, painfully tight that it made Draco scream in white-hot pleasure as he was dragged over the edge. He pressed his head against Harry's shoulder as he emptied himself, with his hips snapping against Harry's arse for the last times before he slumped on top of him, breathing heavily, his muscles feeling like jelly.

 

“Just so you're informed, Potter, I doubt I'll ever move from here.”

 

Harry laughed, still half-panting. Draco moved his head enough to glance at the other boy and decided that shagged-out was another amazing look on Potter.

 

He was about to shift and pull out when Harry reached his hand to move stray blond curls off his face. Draco froze. Harry's fingers moved softly, traced carefully along the angles of his face and brushed through his hair.

 

Sex – that Draco was familiar with, though the sex with Harry had been hands down the most spectacular in his life. But this, on the other hand. This was uncharted territory. Draco felt self-conscious and out of place. Any guy he'd had sex with had known from the start that warm and fuzzy wasn't in the picture – whether in his own house or the others, nobody expected that from a Slytherin.

 

Potter had never really cared about rules, though, had he?

 

In the end, Draco decided he would be annoyed about it later. For now, it felt too good to just stay still for one more moment, with his soft prick still inside the Gryffindor, who apparently wasn't in a hurry to change the situation. For now, it was too tempting to lay his forehead against Harry's, stare into the mesmerising green, and focus on the soft brush of Harry's hands on him. For now, he would leave that threatening feeling unexamined, that warmth in his chest, and let it be.

 

Just for now.

 

 


End file.
